The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

Tonight, the moonlight scattered a silvery-white glow across the ground.
The night breeze stirred, casting shadows that swayed outside the window.
Asher lowered his eyelashes, holding a cross in his hand as he stood devotedly before the altar, praying.
Since his lover's passing, he has performed this ritual daily, seeking self-redemption and repenting for his sins.
Countless times, he did it all for himself.
But now, as he stood once again before the altar, he could no longer see his own heart clearly.
Confusion and a sense of helplessness engulfed him.
With a long sigh, Asher turned around.
Just then, the church's grand doors burst open.
The next moment, a slender, graceful figure with fox-like eyes shimmering with mist stepped in, breaking through the desolate
twilight and crashing into his gaze.
"Ash..."
Arnold stood alone in the hallway as the cold wind pierced his thin frame. Tears welled up in his narrow eyes. "You came all the
way here to look for me... Why didn't you wait a little longer? Would it have killed you to wait a bit longer?"
Asher's heart jolted.
He froze. An unbearable emotion started burning fiercely in his bloodshot eyes.
"You idiot... Do you know how hard I've been searching for you?"

Arnold trembled all over, barely holding back. However, as soon as he saw his beloved, tears flowed uncontrollably. "I lost my
phone... I dared not go to the KS Group's building to see you. I didn't dare go to Yara Park to see you... I didn't dare to contact
anyone from your family or my aunt... I was afraid of causing you trouble. I was afraid of being a burden to everyone..."
His last words came out as a choked whisper. "But... I was even more afraid of never seeing you again."
How many times had he said the word "afraid" in one breath?
Asher recalled the carefree, unrestrained Arnold who arrived from Meridan back then. He was so free-spirited and fearless.
But now, what had reduced him to this state?
Was it the enmity between the Thompson and Larson families? Or was it Asher's own ambivalence, his wavering indecision, and
the cruelty that had extinguished the rekindled flame of desire for the sake of the greater good?
Asher stared unblinkingly at Arnold's tear-soaked face, his heart aching as if it had been stabbed.
"Ash, I'm scared... When I looked at your back from afar the last time I saw you standing under my window, I was so scared that
it would be the last time I ever saw you."
Arnold cried uncontrollably, draining all his tears. "But how could that be... I want to be with you. I want to be with you forever. I
love you, Ash... I love you!"
"Dr. Larson."
Asher's throat was dry as he spoke, his words stiff as if he were speaking for the first time, "This is a church. Please don't say
such things that go against God's will." "But I've already said it! If there really is a God, then let Him punish me and strike me
down!"

Arnold staggered forward a couple of steps, jabbing his fingers hard at his chest. "It hurts so much here. I don't care about the
Larson family or divine retribution... What do those things matter compared to you? If there's retribution, then bring it on! If the
sky falls, I'll hold it up for you... If we go to hell, I'll go with you! Come on!"
Exhausted, Arnold closed his eyes and collapsed to the ground.
However, he did not feel the pain he expected.
Instead, he felt the warm embrace of a man radiating strong hormones.
It was the embrace he had searched for a long time.
Through the thin shirt, Asher's hand around his waist was burning hot.
"Do you have a fever?!" he exclaimed, his large hands covering Arnold's sweat-drenched forehead, finding it alarmingly hot. "It's
nothing..."
Arnold also wanted to hug him, but his whole body ached too much to even lift his arms. "Seeing you makes everything better..."
Asher gritted his teeth. "Stop fooling around! You have a high fever. You need to go to the hospital!"
"No... My father and brother must be looking for me right now. Once I step foot in any hospital, even the ones under the
Thompsons, they'll immediately get hold of me.
Arnold tightly clutched the man's shirt, shaking his head vigorously. "Some fever medicine will be sufficient."
Then Arnold slipped into unconsciousness.
Tears welled up in Asher's eyes. He clasped the back of Arnold's neck and pulled him into his embrace. "Little fox, is there
anyone dumber than you?"
Taking Arnold's words into consideration and fearing that he would bring more trouble to both families, Asher had no choice but
to take Arnold to his private villa in Savrow.
The Larson family's power was concentrated in Hatchbay, making Savrow a relatively safer place.
Arnold lay on the bed with a cold towel on his forehead. Asher fed him fever medicine and repeatedly wiped his neck and arms
with a wet cloth, but to no avail.

His cheeks were flushed red, and he muttered incoherently.
Yet every sentence contained the name "Ash".
Asher frowned deeply, his heart pounding heavily.
It had been a long time since he had felt so helpless and panicked.
Finally, he picked up his phone and dialed a long-forgotten number.
"Who's this?" A cold voice came through.
Asher's Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice was hoarse as he said, "It's me."
There was a long pause on the other end before a voice, trembling in disbelief, responded.
"Master Ash?! Is that really you?!"